This evening we arrived home to a house that smelled like the awful, choking smell of something burned. A quick scan revealed that we had forgotten to blow out the advent candles this morning before leaving for the day. The candles had burned all the way down, and the wreath of pine and holly had caught fire and lay in a puddle of white ash. Yet the silk that they lay on was unharmed, save for some candle wax. Even the thin cardstock beneath the wreath was not singed.
I stood there for a moment, facing the discovery of the fire and my heart gave pause. I don't usually ask "What if?" but I couldn't help myself: What if the silk had caught and the fire burned down our entire apartment? What if I had taken a single moment to consider that we had done our advent celebration in the morning instead of the evening and recognize how that would change our morning rhythm?
But the biggest question I asked was, "How is this possible?" There was absolutely no reason that the silk and cotton and paper and wool surrounding the wreath should not have also caught fire.
It is a strange feeling, to have miraculously escaped a life-altering disaster. The narrow miss of a disastrous life changing event is, in itself, life changing. It is not often that a circumstance of life asks you to consider, "What if I lost everything I owned?" Tonight it took only a few remarkable minutes to realize that we'd all be okay.
Yet one could not help but speak of angels in that moment of discovery. As I stared at the burned wreath Dave said, "We can thank our guardian angels for that one!" And it's true, so strong was the feeling that someone intervened to help the situation.
I try not to be too wrapped up in the cause of the mistake. Life is entirely too hectic this week with big events planned at school nearly every other day, it is difficult to hold my consciousness in the moment to focus on the task at hand and all I can really think about is getting to Christmas break and spending some time with Dave and Annabelle. I have stopped briefly to ask myself: Why is this season, which marks a time of going inward and finding the quiet and light inside oneself, so full of every activity that is completely antithetical to the inner work that I want to do? But after a deep breath I am again entrenched into the busy-ness of what it means to be a teacher in December.
And despite the forecast of seven straight days of rain (seriously?) I am looking forward to some fun outings around the bay area next week. More than 100,000 Monarch butterflies are roosting for the winter in a grove not far from here, and we will go see them in all their delicate, orange brilliance. And I will take Annabelle to her first ballet show - a mommy-daughter day to go see The Nutcracker with a live orchestra. (Actually I'm just baiting her because Swan Lake is coming this Spring and I can't wait.) It will be quite nice just to be at home, cozy, trying new recipes and painting a certain picture I keep thinking about.
I am thankful that advent still continues for another week and the wonder of the burned wreath can stay with us night after night as we light candles and think about the angels...
